


better off

by parkerprotectionprogram



Category: tom holland - Fandom
Genre: Angst, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Gen, Unrequited Love, angsty angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-09-01 10:34:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20256706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parkerprotectionprogram/pseuds/parkerprotectionprogram
Summary: you’re in love with him.but he could never feel that for you.





	better off

**Author's Note:**

> what’s up babeys!! i’m, as ariana would say, a motherfucking trainwreck but that’s irrelevant. i’ve left this piece unfinished for a few days but it’s finally done and i’m not entirely sure about it but i hope you get some feelings out of it!

The entire room is blanketed in darkness, save for the sliver of moonlight that creeps in through the crack in the curtains, casting itself over a bare back that rises and falls gently with every breath that’s taken. Your eyes trace the light across his back to where the blanket is rumpled at your waist, an arm slung loosely over your hip.

The silence is deafening. Flicking your eyes upward into the seemingly forever expanding emptiness above, you’re forced to confront the thoughts that plague your mind – that have been plaguing your mind longer than you care to admit.

Your eyes burn with every passing second as the night stretches on and yet your thoughts are still as jumbled and disorderly as ever.

Beside you, he sleeps on.

In the dim light, you’re barely able to make out the features of his face. Dark eyelashes rest, fluttering ever so gently against pale skin, mouth set in a slight pout.

The same mouth that had pressed against your skin and caused all sorts of delightful thrills and sensations earlier that night. Yet here you were now, only hours later, a hollow feeling in your stomach and the lump in your throat you seemed unable to swallow.

You’re in love with him.

But he could never feel that for you.

How could he? He’s adamant about his feelings on love and how uninterested he is in forming serious attachments. And you had agreed, too, for a while at least, the two of you finding companionship in each other through the long nights spent together in the cover of the darkness be it either of your bedrooms or the nook of a booth in some dim bar, or the alleyway behind said bar, cloaked only in the flickering of the yellow streetlight.

And then, little by little, it’d begun to change. Maybe it was the little things, moments between the two of you that you cherished, held close to your heart.

_“You’re so damn tense,” he laughs, and beckons with his hand. “C’mere.”_

_You stare at him, quirking an eyebrow and he sighs only half in exasperation, eyes still twinkling, before repeating his request. “Come here.”_

_You make your way over to the couch, settling in between his legs and as his fingers press into your shoulders, you just about melt into his touch. He chuckles softly but doesn’t say anything, continuing to work his way down your back until he brushes against a spot on your side and you flinch away, breath hitching in your throat._

_You freeze when you hear him laugh lowly, almost gleeful after a moment of silence._

_“What was that?” he asks, with the complete opposite of nonchalance, and you turn your head to see him grin slowly, lips curling upwards into an amused smirk._

_“Nothing,” you say, as collected as you can manage, but he isn’t buying it for a second. He shakes his head, never once dropping the shit-eating smile._

_“Didn’t sound like nothing, darling. It actually sounded like – don’t tell me you’re – are you ticklish?” and his voice drops to a whisper at the word ticklish, eyes widening mockingly._

  
_“Of course not, don’t be silly,” you dismiss, edging away as subtly as you can but he lunges, and you can only shriek as he pulls you closer, fingers digging into your sides mercilessly._

_“Tom, no!” you yelp in between fits of laughter, squirming in his hold. He snorts, but your pleas don’t go unanswered and he lets go of you, and you’re left to flop back onto the couch, trying to catch your breath._

_“Jerk,” you grumble, and his lips quirk up in amusement, fingers reaching out teasingly to brush against your knee but you’re quick to draw your legs to your chest, shooting him a glare._

Your legs now lay tangled between his, and though once you’d found comfort in it, his touch only serves to hurt you more. The weight of his arm is almost suffocating, your heart constricting in your chest.

You wonder if it’s your fault, falling for someone who you doubt feels for you half of what you do for him. You aren’t as naïve as you were as a teenager, idealising and romanticising ideas and fantasies, but it feels like you haven’t learned a bit. Rose-coloured lenses indeed. Perhaps through the pink haze, you’d lost sight of everything else.

When the first rays of sunlight creep into the room your eyes are still open, likely bloodshot and thick with unshed tears. They’re quick to shut though, evening out your stuttered breathing when he begins to stir beside you. You press your face into your pillow, the grey cover stained soon after with the tears that slip out. Still, you’re quick to compose yourself and fake sleep as he rouses, shuffling sluggishly out of bed and into the adjacent bathroom.

The moment the door clicks shut, you flip the pillow over and reach hastily for your shirt that lays discarded on the floor. You’ve stayed the night enough to know you’ve got a few minutes before he finishes his morning routine, and you hurriedly pull your skirt up your legs, pushing hair out of your face and shrugging your jacket on.

When Tom exits the bathroom ten minutes later, his brows crease as he stares at rumpled sheets, the only evidence of your ever having been there.

You sit in the back of an uber, two blocks down and as the car peels away further from the house, you stare blankly at the passing houses. It becomes a blur after that, a mix of reds and browns.

Tom’s hand brushes against something as he makes to strip the sheets, and he pauses, patting the spot. Sure enough, he hears a rustle and reaches forward to retrieve a piece of folded paper. Head tilting in confusion, his thumb slips against the paper and unfolds the note. Eyes skim over the ink once, and then twice, before his shoulders slump and he lowers himself, sitting as he reads the note a third time, trying to make sense of it all.

_Tom,_

You’re on autopilot, moving as you thank your driver, and climb the stairs to your apartment, reaching for your keys and unlocking the door.

_I’m sorry. I broke the rules._

The tears don’t come until you’ve divested yourself of your clothes, trembling hand reaching to close your bathroom door and stepping into the hot water. It’s then that you let yourself crumble, tears mingling with the water, streaming down your face as you shake.

_I’m sorry. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep doing this to myself._

_I hope you can understand._

_Y/n._

You let yourself fall apart, in the cover of the steam and water, with no one but yourself to pick up the pieces you let break, you think bitterly. You have to remind yourself to take a breath, and it shudders in your throat, eyes burning as you run your hands over your face.

You pretend that with each stream of water that trickles over your skin, it washes away all traces of him, scent and touch alike.

When you step out of the shower much, much later, and take a seat at the vanity, you take a good look at yourself, skin still damp and cheeks warm to the touch. You note the puffiness around your eyes and shut them, exhaling deeply.

_He didn’t love you. You’re better off._

Opening your eyes, you nod firmly and reaffirm your thoughts once more, out loud.

“You’re better off.”

Your reflection stares back, eyes sad.

_You’re better off._


End file.
